The Wounds Invisible That Love's

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

Sweetest Nut Hath Sourest Rind.

Men Must Learn Now With Pity To Dispense; For Policy Sits Above Conscience.

I Can See His Pride Peep Through Each Part Of Him.

Against Ill Chances Men Are Ever Merry, But Heaviness Foreruns The Good Event.